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I dreamed I stood in a studio
And watched two sculptors there.
The clay they used was a young child’s mind
And they fashioned it with care.

One was a teacher;
The tools she used were books and
music and art;
One was a parent
With a guiding hand and a gentle
loving heart.

    And when at last their work was done
They were proud of what they had wrought
For the things they had worked into the child
Could never be sold or bought.

And each agreed she would have Failed
If she had worked alone;
For behind the parent stood the school,
And the teacher stood the home.

            Written by Roy A. Lingenfelter